


Turmoil in the bookshop

by Zeckarin



Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [24]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Books, Drunken Shenanigans, Gen, Lots of Books, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22761046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeckarin/pseuds/Zeckarin
Summary: This was not a sight Crowley expected as he entered the bookshop...
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley & Adam Young (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1523585
Comments: 20
Kudos: 116





	Turmoil in the bookshop

**Author's Note:**

> February ficlet #13  
> Prompt : “I was only gone for five minutes. How did you do all of this?”

Crowley pushed the door, his eyes locked on his cellphone, and called out.

“Angel? Did you know they’re playing Carmen next week? Wanna go?”

A gasp answered him. He looked up, and froze on the threshold.

“Crowley! You… you are back early,” squeaked the angel before nervously snapping his fingers to conjure a cup of tea in his hand, giving him something to hold onto as he regained his composure.

Crowley wasn’t easily impressed. But that was without contest one of the best description of chaos he’d ever seen. He looked around, mouth agape, then turned to his friend, awestruck.

“I was only gone for five minutes. How did you do all of this?”

“I am sure I have no idea what you are talking about,” answered the angel virtuously, averting his eyes as he took a sip of tea.

This was telling enough. Aziraphale hated miracled food, and tea was no exception. Crowley corked an eyebrow.

“You know lying’s a sin, right?”

A dark stare was his only answer. Crowley took a few steps in the bookshop, trying to assess the damages, to recreate the scene.

No. Nope, no way. Even bloody Sherlock Holmes couldn’t guess this one. There were books _everywhere._ And not the usual everywhere, no, there were books absolutely everywhere, even on the floor. The only place they weren’t were the shelves.

Naked shelves shouldn’t be this creepy, but it certainly filled Crowley with an ominous feeling.

“Alright. I surrender. I have no idea how _this_ happened. Care to share?”

Aziraphale pouted. “I’d rather not.”

The demon hummed, not pushing the topic. He knew best than to insist. If Aziraphale didn’t want to talk about it, then trying to force him to open up would only result in making him angry and uncomfortable.

He could handle an angry angel. Shouting was always good for the soul, after all. But uncomfortable Aziraphale was Bad. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Alright. Do you need help? Do you want me to...” he reached out as he talked, picking up a book at random on top of one of the dozens of piles at his feet.

“NO! I don’t… I mean, I’d rather...”

The demon carefully put the book back, keeping a straight face to not let his hurt show.

“Kay… I’ll… I’ll take the Bentley for a drive. Good weather, today, wanted to anyway. See you later, eh?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth as if he was about to protest, then closed it again with a dejected expression.

“Yes… later. Have fun, my dear.”

Crowley answered with a grunt, and the door closed behind him with something resembling very much a slam.

Aziraphale closed his eyes with a sight.

“Oh, great. This is such a _perfect_ day.”

The bell ringing again had him startle, and he was faced with a very pissed off demon.

“Okay, what the _fuck_ is going on here?”

“Wh… I… nothing! Weren’t you going out for a ride?” spluttered the angel helplessly.

“To Heaven I’m going for a ride! You don’t want me here, fine, but I won’t go before I know what’s happening!”

Aziraphale looked at his friend, glaring daggers at him to hide his concern. Of course the demon would be worried.

The angel’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

“I… I cannot find it,” he confessed.

“Find… what?”

“A book, all right?” blurted Aziraphale in despair. “I can’t find a book! I my own bookshop ! I do not know where it is !”

Crowley snatched his glasses off, squinting his eyes.

“Wait. You did this,” and his hand waved around to encompass the mess “to find a bloody _book?_ ”

His friend looked at him like he had lost his mind.

“Are you not listening to me? I am telling you I couldn’t find it! I always know where my books are ! Always !”

“Well, I know that, stop yelling!” yelled Crowley.

“Of course I am yelling! I am losing my mind, Crowley! I forgot where I put it ! This is serious ! Maybe it is a curse… this has to be it. Someone cursed me, and I am losing all of my memories !”

Crowley wouldn’t be proud of it later, but he just couldn’t stop himself. He laughed out loud. Aziraphale stomped his feet.

“This isn’t funny, Crowley!”

“Course it is! You’re not cursed, angel, you’ll know if you were. _I’ll_ know if you were! Someone must have stolen it, is all. Which one was it ?”

“It can’t be that. It is one of my Pratchett’s. You know they cannot be stolen. The bookshop would never allow it.”

“Wow!” the demon raised his hands, frowning. “You lost one of your favourite books? How is that even possible ? Was it one of the signed ones ?”

“Of course it was, they’re all signed but one! I need it, Crowley. I will not be able to sleep if I do not find it!”

“Alright, alright. I’m sure we’ll find it soon, angel,” assured Crowley soothingly. “We will clean the room, one book at a time, and we will find it and have a good laugh about it later, okay?”

Aziraphale nodded miserably.

“I am sorry I snapped at you,” he whispered as the demon picked up a volume, made a show of scanning the cover, and put it on a shelf with a nod.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll snap too if I couldn’t find one of my plants.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

“We’ll find it, angel.”

“Yes, I am sure we will.”

They didn’t find it.

Two hours later, angel and demon were sitting on the floor with the same defeated postures.

“I do not understand,” declared Aziraphale for the hundredth time. He patted the floor, finally finding his mug, and held it in Crowley’s direction with begging eyes.

Crowley refiled it with the bottle they were sharing.

“T’has to be here,” stammered the demon. “It has to. I cursed it myself, so no one could steal it.”

Aziraphale took a gulp, then frowned.

“What?”

“Said it has to be here,” drooled the demon, yawning.

“No, not that. The other thing. You know,” he added as his friend looked at him in confusion “you said you cursed it.”

“You _asked_ me to!” exclaimed Crowley defensively.

“I know, my dear. But what curse was that exactly? I assumed it was a… you know a...” the angel frowned, then sobered up a bit. “A no taking it outside of the bookshop kind of curse.”

“Well, yeah. No stealing. That’s what I said.”

“Crowley, that is not the _same_!”

“Course it’s the same! T’s the exact same! No stealing is not taking it outside, duh !”

“Don’t you _duh_ me, Crowley! You know I hate that! You only use it when you think I am saying something ridiculous !”

“Because this is ridiculous! Not taking out is not stealing, that’s just common sense, is all!”

“Errr… are you two all right?” Interrupted a small voice.

Both entities looked around and blinked in surprise.

“Adam? My dear, what are you doing here?”

“Hi, uncle Z. Uncle Crowley. Sorry I didn’t knock.”

“You’re in pyjamas,” stated Crowley, very proud of his powers of observation.

“Uhh, yes… I was going to bed. I thought I would come here to pick a book. If that’s okay with you, uncle Z?”

“Of course it is. Go ahead.”

The boy put a volume back on a shelf, squinted his eyes, then picked up another one.

“Okay, thanks! Sorry I interrupted your argument!”

“T’s all right, kid. See you later.”

“Good night, my dear.”

The Antichrist disappeared with a wave of occult energy, and the angel held his empty mug again.

Crowley refilled it silently, and took a swig at the bottle.

Aziraphale drummed his fingers on the floorboard.

“So...” started the angel, getting up and straightening his waistcoat “Carmen, you were saying?”

The demon nodded with a breezy smile. “At the Coliseum. Starting on monday. Wanna go?”

“What a splendid idea, my dear. I haven’t seen it in a decade,” answered Aziraphale as they made their way to the back room.

They both walked past the book Adam had brought back without sparing it a glance.

In fact, they did _not_ look at it _very_ pointedly.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you'll like it !  
> Next prompt will be "First of, nothing is on fire. Yet."


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